


Loiter

by AlchemyPhoenix



Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: (surprisingly fun), Baby!Lancer at first, I am making an Attempt, Jevil being a good mom, OH YEAH spade king is a good dad here, also sorry if anyone is tooo ooc, attempting to convey the thoughts of a toddler into words, hmm what else, honestly I had COMPLETELY different plans for chapter 1 but things got out of hand skdbsidb, oh yeah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 00:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16863220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlchemyPhoenix/pseuds/AlchemyPhoenix
Summary: His eyelids open faintly, so as not to blind himself from the intruding daylight. He reaches up towards his face in hopes of discarding the crust that had built up in the corners of his eyes with his small, fuzzy fingers. He attempts to stifle a yawn, to no avail. Two rows of modest, pearly fangs reveal themselves full force as the stale air of sleep forcefully exits his lungs and passes into the space above, quickly diluting as fast as it had appeared. A free hand reaches for the soft cloth of the blanket encasing him to relocate it to its home right above his shoulder, pursuing yet again the sweet dreams he was so forcefully abolished from.Unfortunately, life had other plans.





	Loiter

**Author's Note:**

> Good evening vicelords
> 
> I haven’t written anything in years so you’re gonna hafta forgive me if this is absolute garbo
> 
> Enjoy your toasty warm fresh serving of trash! :)

_ What is that sound? _

 

His eyelids open faintly, so as not to blind himself from the intruding daylight. He reaches up towards his face in hopes of discarding the crust that had built up in the corners of his eyes with his small, fuzzy fingers. He attempts to stifle a yawn, to no avail. Two rows of modest, pearly fangs reveal themselves full force as the stale air of sleep forcefully exits his lungs and passes into the space above, quickly diluting as fast as it had appeared. A free hand reaches for the soft cloth of the blanket encasing him to relocate it to its home right above his shoulder, pursuing yet again the sweet dreams he was so forcefully abolished from.

 

Unfortunately, life had other plans.

 

Something large slipped underneath his adversely small form in an effort to raise him from his crib. He whined in protest, batting his hands at the assailant as capably as his sleep-deprived state would allow, yet the object refused to surrender. A long  _ shhhhhh  _ could be heard overhead, and he concluded his incessant flailing.

 

His eyes were fully exposed now. He could make out the enormous figure by his bedside pulling him from his infinite comfort, recognizing him as his… father? He thinks father. He shared many an appearance with himself and just so happened to be there for most of his entire infant year of existence, after all. He  _ hoped _ it was his father.

 

He didn’t understand many words that his father (or anyone else, for that matter) spoke, but he had come to learn a select few:

 

“Time to get up, Lancer.” He groaned.

 

But ah, there was that one word again: “Lancer”. It was said to him and him  _ only _ . A special word just for him.  _ His _ word. He swears some of the others have their own special words, too. He ponders on it for a minute, and all his past experiences he could bring to the forefront of his mind. Maybe that was… his  _ name _ ? He begins to mull over the reality of everyone else’s names as well.  _ What were they again…? _

 

His thoughts are cut short as he realizes he’s moving. His father had found him a comfortable spot nestled in the crook of one of his large arms and had begun to carry him out of his room. Breakfast time, he assumed. Now that he thought about it, he supposed he  _ was _ kind of hungry.

 

~~~

 

Lancer sat patiently in his tall chair as his dad (he had heard this word used before as well. Smaller, simpler… he decided to use it, instead, during his earlier pondering) rummaged through the cabinets for his food. Same routine each day. He could feel himself grow hungrier by the second just thinking about it. His aforementioned patience was wearing thin.

 

The whimpering started off small. Meager sounds… hopefully just enough to get the point across. His dad spoke to him, having heard his pleas, but he didn’t understand a cent of it. Was he scolding him for being impatient? He couldn’t really tell. His voice was low, though, and he didn’t sound very enthused about the ordeal. Lancer fearfully paused. He didn’t want to make him angry! He was just hungry!

 

Sobs began to roll in, now for a completely different reason. His dad spoke deaf words to him again, his tone now edged with worry as he struggled to find where the jars were located. He huffed something under his breath about other people misplacing his things, sounding moderately peeved. It didn’t quite help his son’s demeanor in the slightest.  _ I’m sorry, Dad! I didn’t mean it! _

 

“Ho ho!” A cheery voice near the kitchen entrance chimed. Lancer and his dad snapped their heads to the sound as a colorful being bounded his way inside. Skin blue-tinged, wore a funny purple and black hat, yellow bells donning each point. Purple shirt, black cape? It looks like a cape. Purple gloves, black pants… green shoes? Slippers?  _ What  _ are _ they? _ Funny-looking green and yellow frill around his neck. Long, violet tail, almost equally long ears. Big teeth! Hard to see in his eyes.  _ Like me! And Dad! ...Are we related? _

 

The new individual halted on his toes in front of Lancer, leaning forward and holding his hands behind his back. He began to speak: “From across the halls I had heard the band tuning up! What seems to be troubling this poor little pup?” He didn’t understand a word being said, but both his sentences ended with an “-up” sound. He thought that was pretty cool.  _ How many other words can you do that with? _

 

His dad spoke up. “I’ve been  _ trying _ to find where his food has been misplaced for the past 5 minutes now. Let me find who was responsible for tidying up the place last night.  _ Let me find them _ , so help me-”

 

“Hold on!” The other party asserted, hands thrown in the air, then visibly recoiled from his outburst once he remembered who he was speaking to. “Your Majesty, if I may-- let’s not get too aggressive in front of the boy, yes?” A gloved hand reached out towards Lancer. His snout was poked, and a singular digit inside the cloth began to make swirls on his nose.  _ That tickles! _ And so the giggling commenced. “He is just a small thing, very sensitive, sensitive! You mustn’t express your fury in his sights, he knows not of what you say! Surely his wailing must be from misinterpretation of the direction of your animosity!” He pauses, an unsure look on his face, then grins. “No… offense, of course.”

 

A weary sigh fills the air. “You’re right, Jevil.”  _ Is that _ his  _ name? _ “Though… could I trouble you to help me find these food jars?”

 

Jevil chortles aloud. “Anything for the king and his precious little pumpkin!” Lancer’s nose receives another poke.

 

_...King? _

 

He had heard of kings before in the stories various residents in the castle would read to him. They were powerful people, from Lancer’s minute understanding. Ruling over entire lands, slaying monsters, usually loved by all… holier-than-thou types of people. Talked real funny. He glanced over at his dad.  _ Was that really him? What he was? A… a king? _ Lancer frowns. He just seemed like a dad to him. That was it.

 

He considers the fact.  _ My dad… a king. What does that make everyone else? What does that make  _ me _? Am I… the prince? What- no, that can’t be right. Princes are adults. Not kids. Princes don’t have bedtimes because adults don’t have bedtimes. Maybe… when I’m older? _ The evaluation was arduous on his brain. He studied Jevil, who conversed amiably with his dad, while they picked the cupboards clean. He had completely forgotten he was hungry.  _ What was he, even? I don’t remember too much from those books… the monster? No, he would have been slain already. The… _

 

He pauses. From his peripherals, Jevil guffaws, and even his dad manages to crack a grin. He must have said something funny. One of them, anyway.  _ Is… is he… the queen? ... Can boys even be queens? I never saw any boy queens. Is Jevil even a boy? How do you tell? He sounds kind of like one, is that good enough? _ Lancer meditates on his guess, and recalls his previous findings about the colorful individual across the kitchen.  _ Almost blue like me and Dad… big, sharp teeth… dark eyes you can’t see in, just like us… maybe he  _ is _ the queen. Then…  _

 

_ … Is… is Jevil my  _ mom _? _

 

He suspends all current thought, all current movement, and his eyes nearly bug out of his head.  _ My mom?! My actual living, breathing mother? Aren’t you supposed to get those when you’re born?  _ Lancer swivels over and faces Jevil’s direction, and reaches out a grabbing hand.  _ Mom! Where have you been? Why have you been hiding from me? I’ve been waiting to see you for so long! _ He turns to the king and waves his tiny hand in a vain attempt to grab his attention.  _ Dad! I found Mom! He’s right there beside you! Why are you not freaking out right now? He’s here, he’s finally  _ right here _! _

 

Jevil turns on his heel at the sound of the rustling. “Goodness, little prince! What seems to have you in such a fuss? Oh!” As he found his answer as soon as the question was out, he trotted back again to Lancer’s near front, a sly grin adorning his features. It was almost a little creepy, how cheerily calculating he appeared to be in that moment. “Fear not, my king,” he declared over his shoulder. “For it appears I have found…” A hand reaches back into a vague area behind Lancer’s head, rummaging around in what seemed like nothingness. Suddenly, shock and glee fills Jevil’s expression as he hops back with a jolt, and in his hand lay exactly what he and the king were searching for for the last millenia: a small jar of Lancer’s oh-so desired breakfast. “... the spoils of our cabinet-frisking!”

 

_ What! _

 

The king brings a hand to his face, and mumbles a faint “of course”. Jevil begins untwisting the lid as the other man pipes up: “What did we even do all of that for, if you could just…” His hands make an unknown erratic gesture in the air.

 

Jevil flashes his shining fangs at him in elation. “Hee hee! I just wanted to mess with you!”

 

Lancer supposes he likes his assigned mom.


End file.
